


Nostalgia

by agent_orange



Category: True Blood
Genre: Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, Europe, First Time, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 22:51:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2168202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_orange/pseuds/agent_orange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That night, Eric sleeps in the ground next to Godric.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nostalgia

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://preromantics.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://preromantics.livejournal.com/)**preromantics** for betaing.

_Sweden, sometime in the eleventh century_

When Eric rises from the earth, he feels different. He feels new. He isn't sure how long he slept, but the last memories he has are teeth in his neck and a pain there, hot and sharp.

There's someone next to him; he can feel their presence. When he turns to look, he finds it's a man—much younger than himself, almost childlike. He tries to get up, but strong fingers instantly close around his wrist.

"Don't," the man says. "It's not quite sundown. You must stay here."

Eric's heard tales about the undead, and some lore, but he's never met one. He does not panic, because he's a warrior and warriors are always calm, always collected. "Did you turn me?" he asks. His heart doesn't pound in his chest, and that's when he suspects he's now one of them.

"Yes," the man answers. "You were unhappy before. Not long ago there was a tragedy in your life, was there not?"

"How did you know that?"

"I've been keeping track of you for quite some time, Eric. It was only a matter of time before I caught up with you."

"Who are you?" he demands. His voice echoes; they must be in a cave somewhere.

"My name is Godric. I'm your maker." He pauses. "How are you feeling? You were...asleep for a while."

"I don't know," Eric says. He's not sure he feels anything. "Hungry." There's something else, too—want curling low in his belly, but he doesn't mention that.

"Ah, yes," Godric says. "That's to be expected. Come. We'll find you someone to eat."

*

It's another hunter, lost in the woods and doomed by the cold. Godric looks at him and talks, a hand on the hunter's shoulder, telling him everything will be okay, that they won't hurt him. While Eric watches, fangs that must've materialized when Godric changed him descend, a quiet _snick_ making him aware of their presence. After a few minutes, Godric cuts his eyes to Eric, signaling him.

Eric bites into the human's neck. There's no resistance. The first mouthful is strange, but he sucks eagerly, drinking his fill. Blood is more delicious than he's ever realized it could be—though that may be because he's undead—coppery and warm and rich. Around him, time seems to melt away; it's a surprise when Godric touches Eric's shoulder, says, "That's enough." When Eric doesn't pull away, Godric pushes him, and Eric's thrown against a nearby tree.

The bark rips through Eric's shirt and at his back, but it only hurts for a second. "What was that for?" he growls, taken aback.

"Greediness is not an attractive trait in _anyone_ ," Godric says. "Human or vampire."

"The hunger..." Eric says. "It's relentless. I can't—"

"You can," Godric corrects. "I'll teach you." He pierces his own wrist and allows Eric two mouthfuls—two rich, smoky, ambrosial mouthfuls of vampire blood before the wound closes. "There. That should keep you full for now."

That night, Eric sleeps in the ground next to Godric; even though he's freezing cold, his insides feel hot as fire.

*

_Denmark, later_

They kill a peacefully sleeping couple in their bed. Eric's so hungry, and nothing ever seems to take the edge off. "You first," says Godric, and Eric sinks his fangs into her thigh, just like Godric taught him. She screams in pain, and Eric feels himself growing hard as he drinks. Eventually, the screams taper off into whimpers, and then disappear altogether. Her husband, however, yells loudly until Godric slits his throat, clean and quiet.

After they clean up, they go to bed together. Eric's taken plenty of women, and satisfied them all, but he's never known a man. Godric shows him what it's like, intense and deep and raw. All of his movements are incredibly slow and deliberate, hands steady and capable as they play over Eric's cock. His release seems to last forever, and his vision whites out towards the end of it.

When he finally finishes, he's tired, so tired. He drifts right into sleep, not even remembering that Godric didn't—

*

_England, 1521_

"How weak and ineffectual they all are," Eric whispers right into Godric's ear, reveling in the laugh he gets. "Fools, all of them."  

"Be magnanimous, Eric," Godric says. "If anything, we should feel sympathy for them. Humans are far more vulnerable than we are. Put it out of mind."

Considering this, Eric nods in agreement. "I suppose we could grace them with our superior intelligence." He stands. "If I may, Your Highness. We cannot allow those heathens to flit around the city and curse everyone they meet. In my opinion, we should burn them at the stake."

Beside him, Godric frowns. Eric knows he despises betraying others like them, even mere witches, but they do what they must to survive.

*

_Europe, 1708_

They country-hop across the continent, just because they can; because Godric hasn't seen France in over four centuries. He says he misses it. Eric understands. Sometimes he longs to return to Sweden, but he knows it'd be a foolish idea.

In France, they go to a smoky little café and sit outside. Eric orders two glasses of wine and some pastries just so they have a reason to be there. Obviously, everything goes untouched, but the colors are a nice contrast to the star-studded sky.

Italy holds an entirely different set of surprises. The Colosseum is more stunning than Eric could have imagined; there are traveling musicians and actors everywhere; and the smell of food hangs thick and heavy in the air. Vegetables in olive oil and pasta in rich sauce. Light, warm bread with a hardened crust. Sweet Gianduiotto truffles. Resisting humans has become easier, but this impossible.

Godric tells Eric he should have grown past his desire for human food by now; he hasn't been this hungry in centuries. Despite his confusion, Godric pays passage on a small fishing boat and a room at an inn. It's isolated, down at the south of the island, and Eric's cravings fade.

That night, Godric takes him. The bed is too small for both of them to spread out on it as they are, Eric's limbs stretched wide, but neither of them care.

After Eric falls asleep, Godric whispers, "I'm not at all sorry I made you. I'm just sorry we couldn't have experienced more life together."


End file.
